Page 81 of The Ordeals
The Collector.
My mind implodes. The man who kept me tethered to him, the man who claims I won’t survive the final Ordeal, that I’m not ready, that I mayneverbe ready really, truly knew my parents, and he knew them well. They were here together … they … they—
Staring up at me, amidst a pile of letters, is another photograph. Of the Collector, but far younger, a man and a woman flanking him, and she’s holding a baby to her chest, her smile luminous, even in this sepia-toned print. I turn it over, read the names and choke. Ezra Darley, Lucas Winter, Dede Winter and … Sophia De Winter. I rifle again through the trunk and, shaking, find a near duplicate of the photograph Banks handed to me that I lost. It must have been taken the same day. We’re wearing the same clothes, the same backdrop of the tumbling sea is behind us.
De.
De is …my middle name?
My stomach roils as I turn cold then hot with shock and I lean back against the side of the bed, clutching the photographs in my hands. Ezra Darley, the known alchemist, the living descendent of the founder of Darley Hall, has known me my whole life. My parents didn’t abandon me; it was intentional. They left me with someone they knew, a powerful alchemist. I lick my lips, forcing myself to slow, to close my eyes and pull in deep breaths. In, out … just like Dolly taught me. I feel the hard edges of the photograph in my hand, smell my perfume lacing the air. I feel the cold of the floorboards digging into my bones and I shiver, drawing my knees to my chest. I know who my parents are.
Iknowwho they are.
All this time I was looking for a mention of the family name DeWinter in the halls of Killmarth, not realising my own name had been twisted, ever so slightly. Just enough to hide in plain sight, but with a link if I chose to look more closely, so I could find my way back to them. I have a myriad of questions, so many my head spins, and there is only one person who can answer them. One living link to my past, to my heritage. The one person I loathe, more than anyone in this world.
Pulling the scattering of letters out of the trunk, I climb up on my bed, running my fingers over the handwriting. They’re all addressed to ‘Dede’ or ‘Luc’.
‘Love letters …’ I murmur, carefully turning them over. I’m not sure if I should read them, if I should pry into such an intimate era of my parents’ lives. But when I sift through them all, I find one addressed to E.D. and I slide it out of the envelope to read.
Eddy,
I fear it is that time we hoped would never come. Luc and I must leave her with you. We’ve been summoned by the Crown, and we must answer.
Don’t tell her about us, not the truth anyway, not until she is truly ready. Make her strong, even if it leaves her feeling alone. Make her powerful and resourceful and able to face her fears without a single flinch. When she’s ready, she will enter Killmarth and slay the Ordeals, one by one. But only when she is strong enough. Only when she has uncovered the true depths of her power. We have only seen a moment, but it was enough to know what she carries inside herself. Until then, ensure she survives.
Guide her, but do not pity her. You will believe you are being too hard on her, but kindness will kill her. She will grow to be weak and vulnerable, and she cannot depend on a single soul. Send her on your assignments so that when you can no longer protect her, she knows how to navigate the dangers of our world. Make her resourceful, make her cunning, hone her into a creature of survival. Bind her to you with your power.
Eddy, may you hide from the monsters and may they never find either of you. Hide in plain sight, use your magic to cloak you all,you and Dolly and Banks … and my Sophia. Go to the Morlagh if we fail and they return. Stay in the heart of pack territory if they hunt in our world again. Take wood and iron and do not rest until they are gone.
We will see you on the other side, whatever side that may be. In life or in death, we will know soon enough. Too long have they feasted on us. Too far has our world slipped into shadow. Let this be the end of it all.
Yours,
Perdita
A soft tap sounds on the door and I jump, pulse quickening. The tap sounds again and I sniff, wiping at my face, realising I’ve been crying, hot tears slicing down my cheeks as I stuff everything back into the trunk.
‘Who is it?’ I ask, brushing down my clothes, drawing in cooling breaths.
‘It’s me,’ Alden’s voice rumbles.
‘One minute,’ I call back, checking my appearance in the speckled mirror. My eyes are red-rimmed, bloodshot, face pale from exhaustion and shock. But I’ve been trained for this, I realise. Trained since birth … just as my parents wanted. I blink, snapping a mask over my features, removing all traces of the ache in my heart. I cross to the door, unlocking it with barely a tremor as I bury, deep in my mind, what I’ve just read.
What I now know.
I’m not ready.
‘Thought I heard you get back …’ Alden says, smiling at me as he slips through the door. ‘I’ve just delivered another batch ofwolfsbane. Greg’s holding up well, hasn’t transformed yet. Hello, by the way.’
‘Hello,’ I manage, summoning a smile. ‘You look peaky.’
He shrugs, dropping onto my bed. ‘The curse of wielding too much magic, too fast. But Frances is all right and I should be well enough for tomorrow.’
‘Yes. Yes, you should,’ I say, only half concentrating on what he’s saying, even as my mind is still spiralling.
He frowns at me, reaching for my hair, smoothing it behind my right ear. ‘Sure you’re all right?’
‘I’m fine. Really,’ I say quickly. ‘Just relieved Greg is doing well. That it’s all under control.’
